The Ear
by sophie1670
Summary: Got distracted re-watching season 3. Here's the answer to Boyd's and Wynn's questions. t for language, which is a lot worse in chap 2
1. Chapter 1

Theo Tonin's eyes flitted between his son and his employees for one moment. Then two. Then three. Almost without realizing, his hand came up with it.  
The ear.  
The ear had belonged to a two-bit hustler named Kenny "Studsey" Sturbridge. Studsey had a bit of a problem, he never learnt to use his ears and mouth in the correct 2:1 ratio. Theo hadn't been more than 22 when Studsey decided that Theo had cheated him in a pool game. And he might have. It was a subjective thing. But if Studsey had shut his mouth and called it even when that blissful opportunity had been offered then there wouldn't be the ear.  
Theo had called his shot. One cushion, corner pocket. Studsey, being Studsey, had chuckled, blown smoke from his Black & Mild in Theo's face and upped the bet to $200. All well and acceptable for this moment in time. Theo had a lot of time and a lot of patience. He'll get to Studsey, in time, so he bent for his shot. But then Studsey had to start laughing at one of his boys and he smacked the table with his big stupid hand and the ball cradled and then fell.  
And then hell broke loose.  
Theo didn't remember who went for whom first. He recalled that calm before the storm. The fierce eye contact between 'em. Rage versus rage. All he knew was at the end of it he had Studsey's ear and Studsey wasn't complaining anymore.

Now, Theo looked at Studsey's ear. It lived in Theo's pocket now. In his robe or suit coat, always available whenever Theo needed an attentive ear. It was an ugly, misshapen thing. Crispy with age. Colored like one of his mother's dust rags. He'll have to get another, pondered absently.

Bringing it to his lips, "I will never understand what is so difficult about doing what you're told. I give a fucking order and you do it, what's so hard?" He continued in this vein as Sarno, newly released from his parole violation, calmed Sammy and the other one, Terry? Tommy? Whatever. "How fuckin' difficult is it to find someone to do what I tell them? Or can they just not hear me? Am I not loud enough?"

"Sir," Sarno stepped in calmly, "It's under control. Sammy and I," he glanced at a frightened Sammy, "we'll take care of it."  
Theo dropped his hand but kept the ear out, as Sarno continued assuring him that everything would be fine. Even as this damn silver star was tearing apart his past in Kentucky. Even as his interstate hooks were weakening. Sarno had everything under control.  
What a lucky, fuckin' bastard he was. Huh, Studsey?


	2. Chapter 2

"Fucker's alive," Theo Tonin deadpanned. "Fucker shoots me in the fuckin' EYE, jumps out a fuckin' PLANE-with my fuckin' cocaine, no less- and for thirty years he's been alive and fuckin' well in shit-creek county, Kentucky!?"  
Nicky Augustine blinked and resisted the urge to reach for his ringing ears, "We don't know he's alive still. Thirty years is a long time."  
Wrong thing to say. "Really, Nicky?" Theo narrowed his eyes at him, hand in his pocket, "Anybody else know that? Did anyone else in the fuckin' brain trust and loan not know that thirty years is a long fuckin' time?" Theo turned back to the cringing Nicky, "Thank you, Nicky, for bringing that fact to my attention. I'll keep it under advisement."  
"Our man in the FBI says-"  
" 'Our man in the FBI', he says," Theo started at the ear again. "Our man in the FBI," he said, seeming to savor the letters on his tongue, "Nicky's buddy in the FBI has out lived his usefulness, hasn't he? He's certainly not mentioning that since our Agent Barnes took the bullet-to-the-brainpan exit, the Bureau is no longer in charge of anything. The fucking Marshals Service is. The same fuckin' Marshals Service that came after Bobby in Frankfort, the same fuckin' office, probably the same fucker in that fucking hat!"  
"We can find Drew Thompson before the Marshals," Nicky said softly.  
Theo's eyes flashed at Nicky and Nicky flinched, "What am I? A fuckin' dinosaur? Am I a fuckin' T. Rex that you gotta speak quietly around, is that it?" Theo continued ranting, pacing in his bathrobe. A deranged Hefner with a straight blade fetish. "Am I a crazy no one can speak in an acceptable tone of volume? Does everyone think that? Is that it, Nicky? I'm a fuckin' nut that everybody's got to be quiet around so I don't lose it? Am I gonna lose it?"  
"No, sir. I don't think you're going to lose it," Nicky said, ears bleeding metaphorically.  
" 'No, sir. I don't think you're going to lose it'," Theo sneered at the ear. "Really, because I feel like I'm gonna lose it. How did everyone fuckin' miss that Drew Thompson wasn't a fuckin' pancake?  
"You go to that fuckin' backwater. You find that Dewey guy -the one that Bobby dealt with- Breeze or Wind or whatever his fuckin' name is. You get him to find Drew Thompson. He's lookin' for a promotion with me anyway. Set him after Drew and you let your Feeb buddy know we know he's outlived his usefulness. You get me, Nicky? I know you was friends-"  
"But business is business," Nicky finished for him. "I'll take care of it, sir." Nicky nodded and retreated out before Theo could take anything else up with either Nicky or the ear.  
Fuckin' Kentucky, armpit of America. Give him Detroit any day.


End file.
